Keeping the Promise
by TheKingsCrest
Summary: Harry Potter is an ordinary boy with no apparent magical powers. The only thing special about him is the fact that he defeated the Dark Lord 16 years ago. But he doesn't know that. At least not until a brilliant witch recognizes him on a crowded subway car.
1. Prologue

Deep in the halls of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, in the mental health wing, behind the fourth door on the right, an elderly wizard sat in a gold satin wingback chair and stared out the window. It was springtime outside. It had been so long since the man had felt the sun on his cheeks or the wind tickling his silver beard.

"Meow." He said, suddenly remembering his dear old friend. "Meeooow."

The door opened behind him but he continued to stare through the glass and meow quietly to himself.

"Thas righ'. Thas what a cat says." Spoke a deep, rumbly voice. "Now it's time ter take yer medicine."

The old man turned around in the chair and squinted over the top of his half-moon glasses to discover the owner of the voice. He was a large man, no, a _huge_ man. He had dark eyes and a very unruly black beard. He was dressed head to toe in white and carried a silver tray. Something about him was familiar to the old wizard. _Oh! He visited me yesterday too. That's it. _He thought.

The younger, larger man came closer and set the tray on a table next to the bed. He then removed two small cups and walked to the window where he stooped down to speak with the older man as if he were a child.

"Here's yer pills, sir. Take 'em like a good patient does, now."

The old man obliged, dumping the contents of one cup into his mouth and chasing it with the water in the other cup. He quietly handed both cups to the man in white as a single tear fell from his icy blue eyes.

"What's the matter, sir?"

"My friend never got medicine." He looked down to his lap and wrung his hands together. "You could have saved her with medicine, but you didn't! She was my best friend!" The patient let out a painful wail.

The nurse took his large hand and placed it over the man's more frail hands. "No medicine could've saved her." He said as he stood to leave.

"She was a cat, you know! My best friend was a cat. Meow." He said.

The huge, dark man closed the door gently and left the older man alone.

"Meow."


	2. Chapter 1

**This chapter was not as long as I intended but it was a natural stopping point and I felt pressured to put SOMETHING up. Readers: you're great, don't forget to review. J.K.R.: You're great, thanks for letting me borrow your stuff. :) **

It was a particularly warm morning in June when Harry Potter left his home on Privet Drive and began walking. Where? He had no idea. He just felt he needed to get away from his family. He'd been with his Aunt and Uncle for the last 15 years, and they were the closest thing he had to parents. They were positively rotten to Harry, mistreating him in all sorts of ways, but he supposed it was because they loved him. At least a little. Maybe

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were tolerable. It was their only son, their pride and joy, who really rubbed Harry wrong. Harry spent nearly every waking moment with Dudley Dursley. Harry woke up early to prepare breakfast and then the dysfunctional family of four ate together. Then Harry and Dudley left on their way to Smelting's Academy. They'd attended this school for a few years now, and, while Harry had to admit it was quite a bit better than his days as Dudley's personal punching bag at St. Gregory's, Harry hated school. Then they would come home where they would sit at the dining table and Harry would do both of their homework while Dudley at a snack. Later in the evening, Harry would clean both their bedrooms as well as the entire upstairs and the kitchen. Petunia sometimes sent them both out for some "fresh air." Really it was just a time for Harry to get shoved around by Dudley's bully friends. They would come home when the sun went down, eat one more time (naturally), spend an hour or so watching the telly in the sitting room, then go to bed. Harry relished the moments of quiet after everyone had gone to sleep. Those were the moments when Harry's thoughts could not be disturbed. Not even by the quiet snores coming from down the hall.

The summer holiday had barely begun and Harry was already growing weary of his family. Sometimes the constant nagging and harsh words made him lose his cool. He didn't know where he was going, but it didn't really matter. So one foot in front of another, Harry walked along the cobblestone road, on his way to nowhere in particular.

A little less than an hour later, Harry was about to pass by the subway station when his whims led him in to buy a ticket into London. He quietly slipped into the subway car along with a dozen other people. He was immediately squished. He rode for about an hour, making 5 or so stops, each _whoosh_ of the doors bringing in new waves of people closing around him. Just then, a particularly large group shuffled in giving very little room for those who wished to exit. This brought on chaotic shoving and Harry bumped into the large man behind him. Before he could turn and apologize to the man, a young woman-pressed close to him by the people continuing to flood into the car- stepped on his foot.

She whipped her head around sending her dark auburn curls flying. "I'm so sorry!" Her eyes were wide in genuine apology. She was quite pretty. Harry couldn't help but smile at the stranger with large brown eyes and delicate features. He thought she might at least smile back, but instead her eyes stayed wide and lips parted ever so slightly. She leaned in closer to Harry and let out a small, barely audible gasp.

"Holy cricket." She breathed.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You… You're Harry Potter!" She whisper, yelled.

"Erm." Harry mumbled, confused. "Yeah. What of it?"

"Merlin's beard. I thought it was just a legend. But if you… then it must all be true which means…Well now I must tell Professor…" The girl continued to ramble to no one in particular. Harry, frightened by her knowledge of him, tried to slip backward into the mass of bodies behind him, but she startled him yet again by grabbing his arm.

"Harry, erm, Mr. Potter. Sir. You must come with me." She said

"I don't think so."

"Please. It's Important."

"I don't even know your name!"

"It doesn't matter right now. I'll explain everything when we get there."

"When we get _where_?" Harry said, exacerbated.

"Just to my favorite little coffee shop in the city. You and I need to talk."

Then she turned around to face the front of the car, keeping hold of the hem of his shirt to make sure he wouldn't try to get away.


	3. Chapter 2

**Hope you guys like this chapter; it's longer than the others. Don't forget to reeeeeeview! :)**

In the heart of London, it was barely noon, and the sun shone bright and warm. The city was alive with excitement from students just on summer holiday and tourists filled with wonder. Two young people sat in Café du Crème, a lovely little coffee shop nestled right behind the shopping district. The inside was cozy and inviting. Warm earth tones and comfy couches greeted those lucky enough to find the place. Harry sipped a latte and stared at the girl across from him. She was clearly frazzled, drumming her fingers on the table and staring into her cup, eyebrows stitched together. They'd sat like this for nearly thirty minutes and not a word had been spoken. It was becoming quite awkward for Harry, sitting there with a stranger who knew his name and clearly much more. He cleared his throat.

"Hermione." She finally spoke.

"Huh?"

"Hermione. My name is Hermione Granger."

Harry's smile made an appearance. "Now!" he said. "Now we are getting somewhere."

She did not smile in return. "I'm about to tell you how I knew your name."

"Oh lovely." said Harry. "Just the first of many, many questions."

"You have to promise me one thing. You must keep an open mind. I'm talking wide, _wide_ open."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Can do."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. "Harry, have you ever heard the name…" then she lowered her voice. "Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Harry repeated.

"Shh! Yes, Voldemort." She whispered.

"Erm, no. Don't think I have."

"Well, let me go even farther back. What do you know about your parents?" She asked.

Harry's face became hot. He did not speak of his parents, nor did he want anyone else speaking of them. "They left me with my aunt and uncle when I was just a baby. They ran off to travel the world together. I hate them and that's all there is to it."

Hermione's mouth fell open just a bit. "Harry, no. Your parents… they're dead."

"What? What are you talking about? My aunt and…"

"They lied to you, Harry. And not just about your parents. There is so much you don't know. So much they've been keeping from you."

Harry had absolutely no grounds to believe what she was saying. None. And yet part of him did anyway. "No!" he yelled, putting his hands in his hair and drawing a few curious gazes from others in the shop. "How do you know?" he asked with a tremble in his voice.

"It goes back to the name that I mentioned before."

"That Voldemort person. He killed them?"

"Well yes, but…"

"Then I'll kill him!" Harry was filled with rage. He now trusted this stranger. Something in his core made him believe her.

Hermione let out a quiet noise. He couldn't tell if it was a scoff or a laugh. Either way, it made him even angrier. "Something funny?"

"Actually…" She started, but then shook her head. "Harry, you need to calm down so I can tell you the whole story. It's important you listen, and we're getting to the part where you need that open mind."

"Alright." He said, reluctantly.

"Okay. Do you know what your parents did for a living?"

"Erm, I think my mother was a teacher, and my father was a banker." He answered.

"Well, you'd be wrong. Your parents, like many others, possessed special abilities. They could do things that ordinary people can't."

"You don't mean to tell me that…"

"Magic. Your parents were magic."

"Ha! You're joking." The serious look on her face told him that she was, in fact, _not_ joking. "That's bollocks. You're delusional!"

"No, no I'm not." She reached over and touched his arm gently. "And Harry, you're a wizard too, just like your father. I'm a witch. We are magical. You have to believe me."

"Give me one good reason!"

"Have you ever made things happen that you couldn't explain? Like when you're angry or scared?"

Harry recalled moments of his childhood that always mystified him. There was the time he and Dudley were outside playing ball and Dudley was being particularly horrid. Harry just kept thinking how humorous it would be if his cousin tripped and got a bloody nose. Not fifteen seconds later, Dudley tripped over a rock, and when he got up, blood gushed from his nose and ran down his front, sending little "Dudderkins" running home to mummy and Harry rolling in the grass laughing.

Once, Uncle Vernon was yelling at Harry for preparing their supper wrong when suddenly the television behind them exploded, taking the attention away from Harry.

The only time Dudley and his friends were nice to Harry is when they played cricket. Despite his lanky frame, he notice that he was always just a bit better than the most athletic of the bunch. If he wanted, he could always run just a bit faster, throw just a bit harder, and hit just a bit farther than everyone else.

One time, Harry grew weary of looking at the shriveled dead plants in the flower bed in front of their house. He thought a bit of color would brighten the place up. The next morning, their garden was alive with brilliant color.

Then there was that one time at the zoo…

"Prove it." Harry said.

"What?"

"You heard me. Prove to me that you are what you say you are."

Her face practically screamed of reluctance, but she looked around to make sure no one was watching and pulled a long wooden stick out of her bag. She pointed it at the table and whispered something practically inaudible before returning her wand to its hiding space. Harry watched with amazement as the napkin he had been using slowly folded itself into a little swan, flew into his latte mug, and began splashing and swimming around. It was, well, magical!

He smiled and even let out a small laugh of disbelief. "Alright so let's say you're telling the truth. What does this have to do with my parents?"

"Voldemort was also a wizard. A bad one. He had more evil in his veins than every one of Slytherins past combined." She said.

"What's a Slytherin?"

"I'll get to that. The point is, he named himself the Dark Lord. Many people were so afraid of Voldemort that they called him 'He Who Must Not Be Named.' The one thing he feared was death. There once was a prophecy that spoke of a wizard who would be the equal to Voldemort and would be his downfall. This angered him greatly, you can imagine, and he then focused all of his energy on finding his only equal. This wizard turned out to be a baby. A one month old baby named Harry Potter."

Harry's jaw went slack.

"So, Voldemort tracked down the Potter family and murdered Lily and James. When he found Harry, when he found you, he tried to kill you, but… something went wrong. The spell backfired for some reason and Voldemort hasn't been seen since." She finished.

Harry had so many questions, but the only one that he could get out was "How do you know this?"

Hermione breathed a sigh of sympathy and reached into her bag once more, this time not returning with a wand but a children's book. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" was scrawled in curly, gold writing on the top of the worn leather cover. It was clearly a collection of magical children's stories. She turned it to face him and flipped to page 31. The name of this story was 'The Boy Who Lived.' Right beneath the title was a penned illustration of a smiling baby with wild hair and a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. Harry slowly brought his fingers to his head and touched his own lightning bolt scar as he scanned the words of the story. It was practically word-for-word what Hermione had just told him. He could feel tears burning behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut to keep the sobs at bay.

Hermione laid her hand on top of his own. "Harry, I know this must be hard. I… I'm sorry."

"I just don't understand why I never knew this." Harry whispered.

"No one knew! I suppose I should say no one knows. You're a legend. A myth. A bedtime story that parents read to their little ones while they drift off to sleep. You were supposed to be the figment of an author's imagination, a made up character. But you're real. And it's all real. This whole time, everything is true and nobody knew. Harry, there's a reason you've been in the dark for 15 years. And I don't think we should let it go."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I think we should investigate. Find out what really happened, you know?"

Harry could not believe that Hermione, a practical stranger, would be willing to help him sort out his life. She would never know how much it means to him.

"You would do that?" Harry said with a small smile.

"Of course!" She said cheerily as she rose from her seat.

They left some cash on the table and headed for the door. Harry held it open, letting Hermione go ahead. When they were both outside, the London wind blew wisps of hair behind Hermione's shoulders. "So, where do we start?" he asked, looking down at her.

"No idea."


End file.
